


Smiling at the Sky

by peridium



Category: Free!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peridium/pseuds/peridium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are his friends, Nagisa with his bright laugh and his arm around Rei’s shoulders, Rin leaning forward and mouthing furious instructions to the main characters, opening themselves up for each other. They’re allowed to see it when Makoto winces and clutches Haruka’s arm, the tightness of his grip digging into his bicep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smiling at the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arabesque05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabesque05/gifts).



> This ended up sort of "Haru and Mako are the swim team dads," which I think we can all agree is pretty much canon.

They’re all fitting themselves back together, not so things are the way they used to be but so things are—better, new and good. Haruka likes watching them, the tentative camaraderie between Rei and Rin as they learn to respect each other, the easy kindness Makoto shows to Kou in the wake of Rin’s occasional rudeness, the little smiles between Rei and Nagisa that not even Rei tries to hide anymore.

They all try to put themselves out there, outside of their informal joint practices, which are frequent. Haruka has gotten used to making room in his heart and his life for one other, then two, and even three, but four and five—it tires him, sometimes. He goes anyway, accepting the invitations he would have brushed aside a few months ago. This is their time to make something new, with the reassurance that Makoto will always be waiting for him wherever they choose to go.

 

“Hey,” says Rin as they pull their jeans and sweatshirts on while Kou waits out by the pool, the smell of chlorine heavy in the air. He’s forcing casualness, Haruka can tell. Next to him, Makoto is running both hands through his hair, smoothing it down the way he does and politely watching the ground. “There’s this movie that just came out—”

“Yes!” Nagisa shouts in apparent delight, not waiting for the end of the question. Haruka can hear Rei’s affectionately exasperated puff of breath from where he’s turned away, cleaning his glasses.

Rin rolls his eyes. “It’s supposed to be good. If you guys wanted…?”

They turn to Haruka.

Makoto’s attention on him is careful, unassuming, and familiar. He’s trying not to be presumptuous, but Haruka knows he can’t help the way his eyes have slid over, checking to make sure Haruka is okay with Rin’s invitation. Makoto always wants to know that Haruka is okay.

“Sure,” he says. He knows it cost Rin, a little, to extend the offer. Seems like he gets the deciding vote.

Kou is almost as excited as Nagisa when she hears; watching the two of them enthuse, heads together, Haruka catches Makoto’s eye and receives a fond smile as the group waits for the train.

The poster for the film is blood-splattered and ominous, huge white words on the backdrop of screaming faces and unsettling empty and black eyes, but when he touches Makoto’s wrist, _you could go home, you know_ in the gesture, Haruka gets only another smile in response. He nods; Makoto knows what he’s doing.

They’ve done this before, Makoto’s fingers curled into the fabric of Haruka’s sweatshirt as the opening credits appear and his forehead pressed into Haruka’s shoulder so he can avoid looking at the screen. He doesn’t watch films like this without Haruka around, on those occasions when he develops a determination to sit through one at all, and has always liked to have Ren and Ran in the house, reassured by the ability to check on them every thirty minutes while Haruka kept the video paused on the small television screen in Makoto’s room.

The first time Makoto yelps when something jumps out at the protagonist, Rin looks over; there’s no laugh on his lips, just worry creasing his forehead. Haruka can’t see Makoto’s face, but he could swear he can feel the smile curving his mouth anyway. Makoto’s breath is warm against the seam of his shirt, only a little uneven, and Haruka gets it—Makoto is scared, probably he’ll always be scared, but it’s okay. These are his friends, Nagisa with his bright laugh and his arm around Rei’s shoulders, Rin leaning forward and mouthing furious instructions to the main characters, opening themselves up for each other. They’re allowed to see it when Makoto winces and clutches Haruka’s arm, the tightness of his grip digging into his bicep.

As they file onto the street, blinking at the street lights, Haruka doesn’t let go of Makoto’s elbow. Rin tosses Haruka a look, veneer of arrogance cracked enough to show worry again.

“It’s okay,” Haruka says, and doesn’t break stride when he feels Makoto’s fingers tuck themselves into the back pocket of his jeans. They’re shaking barely, so he moves closer while they walk, keeping the air between them warm.

 

Makoto doesn’t ask to come over, but Haruka tugs him in with his hand around his upper arm anyway, liking the way Makoto’s lips twitch upwards as Haruka slips his shoes off behind him.

“Haru-chan,” Makoto starts, knuckles brushing the slope of Haruka’s shoulder, “thank you.”

“For what?” Haruka asks honestly. He's comforted Makoto in the past, stayed with him when he needed it.

“That was nice of you,” Makoto says, “to say yes to everyone going out together. Nagisa worries, I think—and I’m _sure_ that Rin does.”

“We’re friends.” Haruka tilts his head, studying the even slope of Makoto’s nose and how his eyebrows tug faintly downward with his earnestness. “You could have said no.”

“I didn’t want to. It’s okay when you’re all with me.”

The knowledge of Makoto's presence is pleasant, such that the dark kitchen seems less empty as Haruka makes his way around and gathers what he needs. He doesn't need to switch on the light for this. There are a handful of distant, familiar thumps as Makoto sets his things down, settles into Haruka's room.

“It’s not mackerel,” Makoto comments dryly when Haruka nudges open his door with the round platter of tea balanced in his hands. He’s doing well at keeping his voice even, the traces of his fear only in his eyes darting around the room and his hesitant gestures. He rests his wrists at his knees, as if he's putting conscious effort into keeping them still.

Haruka nudges Makoto’s knee with his own, sitting at the edge of the bed. “We already ate dinner, that’s why.”

The teacup he hands over is tiny in Makoto’s still-shaking hands, steam rising up and making Makoto’s cheeks flush as he takes a cautious sip. “You make it well, Haru-chan.”

“It’s just tea.”

“Well, it is made with water…” The corners of Makoto’s eyes crinkle.

The heat of the tea is pleasant, and Haruka watches the leaves drift to settle at the bottom of his cup. “It should calm you down,” he adds.

Makoto’s gaze rests on his face, a thoughtful weight he’s grown accustomed to over the years. “I am calm. Rin felt bad, did you see?”

“He knows you,” Haruka says.

“Yeah.” Makoto smiles, watching him steadily; Haruka sees it out of the corner of his eye. “I know _you_. You’re happy now, aren’t you? It’s better.” It's true, and it's also a welcome acknowledgment that he hadn't been before.

Something trips over itself in Haruka’s chest, a light knock of his heart against his breastbone. “Yes,” he says slowly, trying it out, the idea of being content. "Things are better." There’s a quiet clink as Makoto sets his teacup down, but Haruka doesn’t have the time to do the same before a careful grip is turning his chin toward Makoto. He goes with it, turning to meet the warm puff of breath before their mouths meet.

It’s not the first time Makoto has kissed him. His mouth is warm, his lips are dry, and Haruka knows how this goes, the light pressure of it, without expectations, the same as always. Makoto has never done this because he’s looking for something.

Haruka isn’t the same as he was, though, not exactly, and he—he turns, still holding his tea, and catches Makoto’s mouth in another kiss, one of his own. Makoto pulls in a startled breath, and it’s good. Haruka wants to hear it again, kisses him carefully, closes his eyes when large and gentle palms come up to cup his face.

“Haru-chan—”

Haruka smiles, glad to feel Makoto’s broader answering smile against his own.

“Thank you,” he says, and then, “Drink your tea.”

As Makoto lifts his tea to his lips again, Haruka watching, his hands are steady. He's not afraid; Haruka would know if he was. They drink in silence, Haruka’s cell phone a small weight in his pocket, just in case their friends call for them.


End file.
